Say Nothing of the Dog
by Swifthawk
Summary: What you want to know, is what exactly entails being someone’s familiar. It makes no difference to me if you want to know, everyone is entitled to have one or at least meet one, though it is very taxing to us sometimes.


Say Nothing of the Dog  
by SRSilverhawk

Disclaimer: This is AU supernatural story of the Gundam Wing variety.  I'll try to keep the characters as closely in character as I know how (my Gundam knowledge is woefully small, I've only seen Vols. 1 & 2 and Endless Waltz and read a lot of fanfiction) so do forgive any lapses there may be in character.

…no…

No.

NO.

Absolutely not!

I refuse to-… You're not going to leave me alone until I tell you, are you?

…I thought not… Very well, have a seat. This story might take a while.

Yes, over there is fine- *CRASH* uhhhhh………… don't mind that, t'was Ranno's…

No, no, don't worry; I'll make sure she gets on my case about it; I let you in after all. You'll be quite safe from her wrath.

No, I'm nice like that all the time, though I personally did like that vase. It was from the Chinese Ming Dynasty you know. 

I suppose I should get started, no?

Aren't you enthusiastic, very well, here's how it all began…

                I never cared for the power that most of you humans think we demons, or demon-like creatures as the case may be made, care solely about. None of us do really, now that I think about it.  It's just not important, so instead of sitting back and thinking ever so highly of ourselves some, like me, try to go out and do some good in this world.

                But you aren't really here to hear about that, now are you? What you want to know, is what exactly entails being someone's familiar.  It makes no difference to me if you want to know, everyone is entitled to have one or at least meet one, though it is very taxing to us sometimes.  Look, I've got no problem with my little self-motivated mission to make decent creatures out of some of you thick-headed humans, in spite of yourselves, most of the time.  Sometimes I wonder what it's all worth in the end, but it's become an interest for me so I keep at it.  No, I wouldn't call it a hobby, hobbies cost money you know [Chuckle].

                That done and said, first I'll bring you up to date on the last little wonders I was working on and how I got them. 

                My previous project, Rafael as you may know him now, wasn't the cream of the crop but he made it with my help. Anyway, he was about to send me to the kennel in the sky, as he liked to call it (like a kennel's a such a great place to be.)  After I'd managed to pull his life out of the gutter he goes and finds an upscale condo joint where they don't allow dogs or cats, but fish, birds and/or reptiles are fine.  Heh, bunch of mammal haters, I make a point of digging up their flowerbeds and leaving a little present for those types, it's great to watch their reactions to that first thing in the morning. Like I was saying, after all that work I put in for him, Rafe as all set to ditch me. Fortunately, he never quite learned how I always slipped his collars and leashes (But you know how I do, don't you?  Becoming intangible or invisible at will is so much fun sometimes. Shhhh… It'll be our secret, hehe.). So he was taking me to get my "ticket" for the "kennel" (that asshole) when we ran into a crowd, y'know, those big packs of pedestrians that suddenly appear on an otherwise empty sidewalk. So then he went one way and I went the other, and such was the end of my association with Rafael.

                Just as well actually, the man had no sense of humor to speak of and you have no idea how much I loathed his lousy analogies. No matter, he's got his artist career up and running -you'll probably see his stuff in a gallery somewhere soon, a girlfriend who loves him to death –she just *had* to be allergic too-, and his whole life nice, shiny and bright in front of him. 

The kibble he bought was crap too, I'm a girl who loves her take-out, the more exotic the better, and canned doesn't even come close.

So I took my leave and was heading for the darker sections of the city (which was New Orleans just so you know), hoping without good cause that they're might be someone decent around there. 

I might be biased on that opinion too, I suppose I have high standards… Heck, Cy's one in a million, literally.  Love that girl, I really do, she was my first you know, but then I knew her back when I was just a dog.  Moving right along…

                At any rate, just as I reached the alleys I ran into a trio of those drug-dealer's dogs.  The typical steroid-packed, hideous, pit bull kind of dogs that only a complete and total moron would try to make. Anyway, for once I wasn't in the mood for a scrap, so I tried to ease my way out of there… of course if these were smart dogs there wouldn't have been a problem, but no one ever said that dogs are smart.  Well…. there're plenty of smarter dogs than those knuckleheads. I was one myself, we'll leave it at that, okay? 

                To make a long story short, besides being ugly, they were fast; my luck was just great that day, heh. Now, you know I don't have much of a tail to work with anyway, docking kinda takes care of that; but what I did have was covered in hot drool before I lost them and slipped into another alley quite far from where I had started my little human-hunt.

                I was catching my breath and generally chilling out beside a dumpster, on the dry side I might want you to note, when I got wind of the wonderful aroma of fast food French fries.  I'll tell ya, they have to be putting MSG's on those things, there's no way in hell potato strips should taste that good.  But they do and I'll admit I have a slight addiction to the things.  Its mild, I swear, kinda like you and your obsession with breathing all the time, that sort of thing.  So, I catch the edge of the bin with my teeth and pry the lid off.  Okay, before I go any further there's something I want you to be perfectly clear on, I _look_ like a dog, I _was_ a dog, but I do not, repeat _do not act_ like dog.  Never did really, don't even bark much these days, so I did not knock the thing over and spill garbage everywhere, although I could have pretty easily. Okay, we're cool on that? Thank you.

                So I'm there- Oh, how could I have knocked over a dumpster?  Pretty easily, like I said, hand me that crowbar right next to you…  I don't know why she has a crowbar in the living room, of all the dumb- I don't even stop by here that much, how would I know? Thanks…. See…. Ta da! A pretzel! I'm monstrously strong, you know. I could pick you and that chair up and carry you across the room with my teeth. [Grins] Wanna see?

…You're a wuss…

                Back to the story. I'm there really going through that bin like no one's business, going after the fried fish and chips if you must know.  Maybe later you can tell me where you humans got this hypochondriac thing where you won't even touch dirt now without an application of about a gallon of disinfectant before and after you do.  That just looks really weird and unnecessary to me, there are such things as immune systems for a reason.  

                Anyway, I was really enjoying myself then all hell, or a sound approximately like it, breaks loose about a block away.  Like I said earlier I was pretty far from the section I had started in and had been heading towards the more rural areas.  You know, the kinds with lots of open space and military facilities, usually I stayed clear of them.  Did a stint of military work once, gods but it was dull, despite what those movies might make you think, they don't get broken into that often and I didn't get to bite an intruder once.  For the sole reason that I was curious about what had drawn out all those army boys this time of night, I swallowed the piece of lemon-breaded haddock I had in my mouth, started gnashing on a rather large piece of parsley that had gone along with it and casually went to go see what the deal was.

                It was basically a small caravan with enough gunpowder to blow up a city block charging around obviously looking for something or someone I saw approaching.  Being curious but not stupid, I ducked into an alley that led to a dead end before they got within twenty yards of seeing me.  I've seen bored army boys take pot shots at dogs before, I wasn't about to stand around with 'shoot me' written all over me.  I found a spot near the back that was blocked from sight by a bunch of crates, debris and other junk of that sort to wait and watch, I had been sitting there for all of thirty seconds when guess what comes barreling into my little sanctuary.  

My next job, standing right beside each other and taking into consideration that they had run into a seriously sticky wicket.  

                Well, they didn't see me of course. Invisibility, great little projection trick that it is and the general darkness of the area, kept me nice and unobtrusive.  I like to take a moment to look over the people I'm going to be helping you know, it lets me get a feel for how I should make the first move without being shot. 

Don't look at me like that, it's happened before.  You're so damn skeptical….

So while they were busy, gauging their chances of survival in their nasty little situation, I got a nice eyeful of them.  There they were, in all their teenage magnificence: one had one an entire black get-up, which made me think goth, until I noticed the lack of face paint and weird tattoos, Mohawks and/or body piercings.  Actually, I thought he was a she until my nose and ears told me otherwise, that long, waist-length braid of his made for a lot of fun for me later on, but right then I thought he was a girl.  The other actually looked his gender, not only because he was a little taller than the first, in a form fitting outfit of jeans and a green turtleneck sweatshirt, how he managed to make his hair stay in that one position though, I do not know. Must've taken about a quart of hair gel to hold that massive forelock in place.  There was a really cool calmness around that guy though, was very nice, had nerves of steel that one; the other was about as flushed and excited as they could come.  Given that, I pretty much figured the upfront routine probably wouldn't work; one of them would shoot me before I got within twelve feet of them most likely. Oh, to top it all off, they couldn't have been more than fifteen years old, each.

                One of them, Braid, as I'd casually dubbed him until I had an actual name to work with, quickly went back to the edge of the alley, Bangs (oh yeah, was thinking _really_ creatively that night) right on his heels, and peeked around the corner.  'Bout half a second later they had both pulled back like the sight had burned them and hauled ass to the rear of the alley and ducked straight into the back, hiding behind as much stuff as they could while maintaining clear lines of sight to the entrance.  I, myself, had already heard what they were going to see and no sooner than Bangs had dived behind cover than a spotlight mounted on a Humvee shone into the alley. 

                Somehow, I got the feeling that I had just found who those army boys were looking for.

                The spotlight lingered there, roaming around, looking for any sign of a fresh disturbance of items that would mean someone had passed by recently, which to do those boys credit, there was none. Beside our little Hummer, the rest of that patrol fanned out behind them, two other Hummers went by along with some ground soldiers holding up the rear, AK-47's at the ready.  I darkly wondered what kind of shit I had managed to hop into this time.  Still keeping invisibility turned on at full power, I added intangibility to the mix and slipped through the crates and various piles of junk to take a look at my new charges.  Earlier suspicions were confirmed as I got a good look at them looking at the Hummer looking for them.  From my vantage point they looked like they were willing to play a take-no-hostages game, the eager, young, death-driven gentlemen that they were.  Both of them were in half-crouches, semi-automatics drawn, teeth bared and eyes glittering as they watched what was happening before them.  If I wasn't mistaken, Braid even had a grenade in his hand too.  

Saying, "Hello," just then would not have been a bright idea.

Both sides played the waiting game for a couple of minutes until the spotter on the four-wheeler seemed convinced that there was nothing going to pop up to be shot at in our alley and signaled the driver to move along.  In hindsight perhaps it would have been better for me to have listened for a moment longer to make sure that there were no more grunts walking by, but in the midst of that loud four-by-four I couldn't hear a thing and decided a little prematurely that the coast was clear.  Then again, perhaps it was a good thing I did what I did, they had to trust me not to tell the soldier-boys where they were after all and it definitely got their attention. Both Braid and Bangs relaxed a bit, putting the safeties back on their weapons, while they were doing this, I slipped into the space beside and slightly behind them, against the wall. A moment later they started talking very quietly to each other. 

                "Man, that was too close. You almost didn't make it back here in time, Tro-man." Braid said with a long sigh to Bangs, to which Bangs merely nodded relieved agreement. 

                "We have the information we came for," Bangs began, "but it might be best if we lay low for a while until we are sure we can leave without being detected."

                This felt like a good moment to introduce myself, however, as you know I look pretty damn intimidating even when I'm trying not to be, so simply sticking my head out was out of the question.  I also want to add that I have a sense of humor, and I have learned that when people laugh they are sometimes easier to get along with.  So, that thought in mind, I proceeded with my standard friendly approach number six.  I licked Braid from his chin all the way up to his hair, and it wasn't a little, dry lick either, I packed a nice amount of drool into it too, just for kicks. I had been aiming for the side of Braid's head but Bangs saw me just as I was making my move and the resulting look of surprise on his face had tipped Braid off to turn and look just in time to catch it full in the face. 

By George, I swear the boy almost had a heart attack.

                In a split second Braid had leapt back, clutching at his face, trying, and succeeding, not to yell and knocked over stack of scrap plywood, making a most ungodly racket.

                Just then, as luck would have these things, one soldier who had been lagging along behind the rest of the pack turned and shone a flashlight directly into the back.  Must've been a Mag-Lite now that I think about it… Ahem… Bangs grabbed Braid by the legs and dragged him back into their little refuge before the light could hit them, his gun in his hand again like it had never left the spot.

                "Military police!" the grunt shouted. "I know you're back there you terrorist bastards, come out and take what's coming to you!"

                _'Terrorist bastards?'_ I'm thinking, now I _know_ I've stepped in it, but still, I liked those two right away and knew I was dealing with only one cop and a bozo one at that.  He _did_ sound like one of those guys who had only made it to his unit because he had really incriminating pictures of the happily married colonel with company of the more bestial kind.  He wasn't even pretending he had back up, the guy was about as smart as a bowl of warm oatmeal and sounding mightily pissed and uncertain too, his hand was shaking.  Both Braid and Bangs seemed to have forgotten about me at the moment and had now trained both of their firearms on the moron MP. Braid still had a nice, wide shiny streak between his eyes and a cowlick in his hair, if you were curious.

                So there they were, a nice standoff at the OK corral kind of moment if you want to think really retro.  I'm there just looking at this and decide that unless I do something one of three things will happen:

A) The MP might just walk away, thinking he was hearing things. Chance of that, 0.009%. 

B) The MP might actually call for backup and then shit turns to absolute hell.  Chance of that, 20% and rising.

C) Both sides will open fire on each other, fill each other with lead and I, myself, will probably be caught in the middle of it.  Chance of that, holding steady at 90%.

                So I decide to opt for the hidden fourth choice: D) Familiar steps in and makes the MP feel like a moron.  So I do the move, first after licking Bangs in the ear to surprise him long enough to hold his fire as I wink at him, step over him (the look on his face at that was great), pushing another pile of crap over as I go along and gave the cop my best evil glare and growl-bark as I run past him, trying to knock him over as I make my escape around the corner as fast as I can, while still being slow enough for him to see I was just a big dog.  

_He_ almost _did_ have a heart attack!

                The MP lowered his pistol, made a very unflattering comment about dogs, flipped my supposedly fleeing form a shaking fist and stomped off after the rest of his unit to carry on with the business of threatening other forms of intelligent life elsewhere with big guns and false bravado. The moment he was gone, and after making sure no one else was around, I casually jogged back, as I'd only ducked into another alley to get out of his line of sight.  I went back to where my two little men were sitting and peek around the corner their hiding spot to see if the needed a hand getting moving.  Bangs and Braid just looked at me with eyes as wide as saucers, breathing hard.  Bangs just smiled and shook his head at me. Braid, on the other hand, said "Good dog," like that was the most amazing damn thing in the world, which, I guess, that was to them at that moment. "We owe you one."

                _'No shit you owe me.'_ I think to myself as Braid goes to check around the corner again, with a little gesture of the hand he gives an "All Clear" sign and he and Bangs holster their equipment again. I looked to watch Braid as he strolled back, looking like the cat who ate the canary, and then Bangs went to work, making with the scratching behind the ears and the petting and then he scratched that soft spot right on the back of my neck…

                I was a mushy pile of goo on the spot…

                Like it or not, these two _'terrorist bastards'_ were mine.


End file.
